


Unafraid

by MourningTree



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Caring, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Let them be Soft, More tags to be added, Other, Prequel, Tension, how Grimm met Hollow basically, learning to accept one's past, not really romance, painful memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:13:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29609940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MourningTree/pseuds/MourningTree
Summary: Prequel to my original work: You Are No King. Though it is a prequel and won't spoil the continuation, I advise reading the main work first._____Past the dusty huts of a fading town, a presence demanding the Troupe Master's attention, sat a deep well that never provided water, but was the entrance to Hallownest, an ancient kigdom with a newly beating heart. Deep within the caverns hid an entity of a most divine presence, the legacy of the great Wyrm. Grimm decided he'd halt back his troupe and fight past Hornet's guard just to pay witness to the lost salvation who's survived what shouldn't have been possible.
Relationships: Grimm/The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	1. Chapter 1 - Unafraid

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Silvervictory](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silvervictory/gifts).



> I would like to gift this work to Silvervictory for their continued love and support while I was writing the original fiction; their feedback truly was a great motivation!

Grimm fastened the rolled-up tent canvas onto the grimmsteeds’ back, his hands executing the movement for the hundredth time, now working purely out of instinct. The sounds of idle chatter and the occasional grunts or curses of the grimmkins carrying heavy equipment were but a dull buzz in Grimm’s mind. Though the lanterns still gifted them with their beloved crimsons, the tent was long gone, only its skeleton still standing against the wind arriving from the wastelands outside.

“We’re still not quite packed and ready, Master,” Grimm glanced up upon hearing Brumm’s voice. “This has all come to us as a surprise."

Grimm shrugged, a monotone expression sitting on his face, and checked the straps and clasps one more time. “There really is no need for apologising, my dear Brumm. Not any soul could have foreseen this.”

Grimm looked around, the dust carried by the winds threatening to get into his eyes. This kingdom... what was it called again? Right, Hallownest. Grimm rarely had to remember the names of living kingdoms. And now, it seemed, Hallownest may have opened its eyes, peeking at the world in awe, it may have just opened its great mouth of caverns to fill its lungs with moist air, its heart may have just started to fall into a new rhythm, and in its veins a new kind of life force may have just started flowing. And this new world was no place for someone such as Grimm, a nightmare creature travelling with his nightmare troupe. No, for them it was time to depart and continue their never-ending harvest with newly sharpened scythes.

“I have to mention though,” Grimm was surprised to find Brumm still lingering around. “The troupe seems a bit... more excited than usual.”

He let out a hoarse chuckle. “That is a nice way to put it. We are all equally curious of what exactly just happened. But it’s important we understand that some forces are better left undisturbed, you know that too.” Grimm’s gaze was seemingly lost among the sealed up huts of the fading town nearby, but in truth his focus shifted well past and onto the vague silhouette of a well.

“Some say it all happened not so far away, quite close to the surface, if I heard right.”

“Is that so?”

“Every one of us heard that terrible noise, that roar of a beast so clearly; this time the gossip may just hold some truth.”

“Maybe yes, maybe no,” Grimm murmured under a shallow breath, then at last tore his gaze away from the haze and parted to make certain everything went well in his troupe.

He didn’t know where his legs would carry him. Would he get a few more moments in the spotlight of the stage, or would he be by the stalls, feeding the steeds? Would he end up among the painted caravans or among the shiny charms in Divine’s cosy tent? He didn’t know, and he barely cared. The novices were even louder and jumpier than usual, and the masters regarded everything with rarely more than a tired sigh. No one liked these days, and not necessarily because of the heavy packing or the abandonment of a kingdom, those things were natural and easy to get used to. The problem was that they all knew what strange realm sprawled between the lands. Winds so strong one could barely hear their own thoughts, dust and sand, in your ears and eyes and clothes, just a lifeless wasteland stretching past the horizon, seemingly never-ending. The Troupe held great experience when it came to travelling, but the barren wasteland filled even the creatures of nightmares with dread, threatening to with its terrible winds take their minds too if they weren’t careful enough.

They all hated that. The travelling Grimm Troupe hated travelling; Grimm smiled to himself in sour irony. But such was the life a nightmare creature, and not anything could change that. A stray gust of chilly wind passed by and Grimm pulled his cloak tighter. He let a long sigh to tear up from the depths of his being, then his gaze lifted from the sliding ground below, and the ruby torches only waved at him from behind a veil a fog. He was now treading across messy rows of faded huts, his steps stirring up ancient dust that has been sitting there persistently, seeping into the very material of the tiny buildings. The lumaflies seemed to dance their last performance in their crystal prison, shining a pale light over Grimm’s weary features. He looked around, but the village seemed to be standing empty. His steps never faltered and carried him on, towards something different Grimm couldn’t yet pinpoint.

At last he came to a halt at the old well that never really provided water, but was the entrance to something most peculiar. Well, if Grimm already got this far he might as well say farewell to the kingdom that was no use to him anymore. He gazed down into the abyss of the well, and he shuddered upon feeling as if the abyss might have just gazed back at him. He lingered only for a moment above the edge before descending.

The air was heavy with the scent of moisture, rotting grass, and the last remains of dried up patches of infection. Drops of water played a hollow melody as they were dripping onto wet rocks and formed puddles. The caverns stretched labyrinth-like before the Troupe Master, each of them wrapping itself in shadows and fog, and for a moment Grimm wasn’t even sure why he ended up at the mouth of this slowly awakening beast that was Hallownest. One path carved into the stone seemed to home just a bit more light than the rest, and Grimm took his first steps, senses on edge, ready to fight whatever may face him.

At first he thought the strange sounds were just odd echoes of his own steps, but by the moment he came to realise they might just be scraps of conversation bouncing off the dewy walls. The small path came to an abrupt stop and widened into one spacious chamber which proved to be home for the one thing the monarch believed to be ever important in the kingdom’s life. Grimm has seen towers so high they scraped the clouds, and cities so sprawling the took up the entire horizon, but this massive black egg was something different. However magnificent those buildings were, they still were just stone and metal, but now Grimm’s back prickled upon feeling that faint whiff of magic, of blazing spells and unbreakable seals, and of something as ancient as shadows. He couldn’t help but draw in a sharp breath of the chilly air upon seeing that the unbreakable seals have been broken, its remains spread across the ground.

He wasn’t alone, bugs stood by the entrance there, conversing about something with wide gestures and concerned faces, only casting glances at the blackness of the temple. Grimm had the feeling the place might have been bustling just a few hours ago, but the poor bugs, finally rid of the cloud of infection, failed to realise things take time to change, and however exciting was the promise of a new beginning, it couldn’t be rushed. Grimm took another step, still unnoticed, then stopped. No one invited him, of course not, no one ever invites a nightmare creature, but that only fuelled his curiosity. But again, his troupe might be waiting for him, no, they still had a lot of things to pack up, and he was certain no one would mind him exploring what seemed to be calling him. Only then he realised he had to even his ragged breaths, had to calm his heart, and then he approached the strange temple with steady steps.

Now he could make out some of the bugs there, a few sentinels and husks with scrolls and books, a tall horned figure in a red dress and next to her another one wielding a masterfully crafted blade with confidence. Their conversation faded when they felt the wave of heat that radiated from the Troupe Master, and the bugs dispersed like fallen leaves in the wind, leaving only two figures to remain unwavering.

They too, Grimm realised, were the creatures of the Pale King who somehow survived what he rarely saw even in the realm of nightmares. They must have-

“Dare to take another step,” cut through the air the red one’s warning like a needle, “and you’ll be met with a sharp blade.”

The sudden authority lingering around her thin form made Grimm come to a halt, and for a moment he wasn’t sure what to do or say. “I’ve come with peace,” he said at last, showing he bore no weapons.

Her eyes narrowed, suspicion dripping from her voice, “No you don’t. Bugs like you never come with peace.”

The other one bearing a nail, nearly as tall as their sibling, put a hand on her shoulder and gently shook their head, as if asking her whether all this was really that necessary.

“I know you,” Grimm mumbled into the dimness, “I saw you around the Troupe, entering Divine’s hut once in a while.” There came no answer. “You are the one they call Ghost,” their name fell out of his mouth dryly. “And you,” Grimm pointed at her, daring enough to step closer, lingering around the two as if trying to see them from every angle. “You are not quite like them, I can feel. Protector of this dead land I believe, but the weavers are keeping your name alive, Hornet”

She reached for her nail, hesitating. “This land is not dead anymore, nightmare; there is nothing left for you here. Leave. We don’t need you.”

But by asking him to leave, Hornet only invited Grimm to stay even more persistent. “I always know when a kingdom is but a dead empty shell, and let me tell you,” his gaze swept through the chamber, faded patches of infection like freckles on the cavern walls. “Hallownest is not dead anymore. I have witnessed so many attempts to try and breathe new life into dead carcasses, but none has succeeded,” his voice dipped low, fire crackling in his eyes. “Except you. And for that, accept my praises.” He bowed slightly in humbleness.

Hornet glanced at Ghost, not sure if she was the only one who’s felt suspicion slithering towards her. “We don’t need your tales, Troupe Master,” Hornet’s gaze once again attempted to peer behind Grimm’s cocksure expression, to not much avail. “Tell us why you are truly here.”

Grimm shrugged lazily, gesturing at the gaping hole on the black egg. “That place is no longer the lair of infection, but now homes something even more dangerous and sinister. Something, the likes of you should have strayed far from, instead of trying to put harnesses onto it.” Grimm noticed Ghost tense up, but continued on. “I might just understand what hides there, and make certain this fragile land of yours doesn’t crumble again. I’m ancient, little Hornet.” Grimm tried his best to focus on Hornet, but his gaze always fell on the temple, as if it was one great magnet, demanding attention.

Hornet stepped close to Grimm, wishing to peel back his lacquer of mystery and ash. “What do you want exactly?” she asked, already dreading the answer.

“Nothing too great, only to bear witness, only to enter the Temple of the Black Egg, and see what lays in there,” Grimm voiced his request in such a casual manner that proved Hornet’s theory of Grimm lacking common sense or a knowledge of his boundaries. Most probably both.

Her voice came quiet and serious. “You haven’t seen what’s in there, I and Ghost have,” Ghost nodded along to her words. “And they aren’t your problem, or responsibility, or entertainment for that matter. You want to see the legacy of the Wyrm, to see whether the legends really are true.” She leant close, grabbing at his cloak and pulling him down, foreheads nearly touching. “They are not an attraction to be gawked at, nor someone deserving of mocking remarks. I won’t let you ruin this too. I will protect them, standing guard myself if need be. Or you wish to test yourself against us?” She pulled back, her chest rising at an alarmingly quick pace.

Grimm stood there, silent, thoughts and emotions battling in his mind. Ghost shook their head, not really in anger, but with eyes pleading, mutely asking Grimm to just let them be in peace and figure it all out by themselves.

Grimm filled his lungs with the moist air of the crossroad’s, this moment being one of the rare occasions when his mind failed to come up with a clever enough comeback. The last word was always his, one last snappy remark to prove he was in the right, to convince the other they failed to see the big picture. But now, he wasn’t sure what to do. The situation was all too unfamiliar, and by all means impossible.

“I’m offering my help,” he said at last dryly, words stripped from confidence.

At last Hornet’s breathing seemed to calm, and she took on her mask of strict responsibility back on. “We don’t need your help.” 

Grimm stayed motionless just for another moment, hoping if his eyes glowed bright and honest enough, she might just change her mind. But Hornet withstood his gaze elegantly, opinion unswayable. One last glance at the swirling blackness, and Grimm turned around, pulling his cloak tight, the sound of his light steps landing in puddles echoing about the place. The Troupe Master didn’t get what he wanted, and Grimm wished if Hornet knew how lucky she were that he had just enough self-control not to burn the whole place down. 

_____

“Master,” came Brumm’s voice from the village of tents, “we’ve been looking for you. The troupe is soon ready to depart, we only await your word.”

Grimm let out a sigh, feeling the warmth of the troches and familiarity of that ever-faint scent of smoke. The stage was no more, all the tents and huts gone, packed up tight, grimmsteeds awaiting for the dreaded march to begin.

“No,” Grimm whispered.

Brumm thought he has heard wrong. “Master?” 

The atmosphere around Grimm has changed, leaving the flamboyant but beloved entertainer behind, and shifting towards the black clouds of seriousness and an odd sense of wisdom. He looked down at Brumm, and the poor musician felt as if Grimm’s brightly glowing eyes had the power to set anything on fire. “We stay,” he ordered with undeniable authority. “The Troupe stays here in Hallownest.”

“But, but Master-” Grimm silenced Brumm with a wave of his hand.

Once again he looked behind the braziers, behind that veil of fog, and murmured to himself. “I’ll prove them wrong, I’ll prove all of them wrong.”

_____

The next day he was already lingering around the temple, an odd contrast against the cool blues, a flickering light threatened to be snuffed out by the cold and unforgiving crossroads, but again, rarely did bugs realise what this ancient flickering flame could do. Grimm has been travelling from the moment his realm was born, he has seen lands swallowed up by madness and despair, filled with nothing but crazed cries. He has waded through lands of harsh storms and acidic rains beating down on his body. His troupe has crossed great flowing rivers of molten stone; and many times, did he have to face creatures that once possessed a mind, but became monsters. Grimm has seen gods rise and fall, he has witnessed the ground clash with the skies, and oh so many times did he believe his nightmare heart only had moments left to live. But... he always survived, scarred and wounded, but he always managed not just to save himself, but his troupe too. So now, he would not be stopped by a couple bugs only armed with sharp threats, but nothing else. 

This time he approached the black egg with long and confident strides, his aura of invisible fire just a bit livelier than usual. Grimm stood at the yawning mouth of the temple, alone. He tried to cast a new light into the vast darkness, but that ancient entity swirling inside devoured it, as if warning Grimm. He took another step and the blackness washed at his legs like some cursed waves of a strange ocean. Then something pale seemed to shift on the bottom of the lightless sea, and they were getting closer, a lumafly lantern in their hand. Grimm tensed, his neck craning to see inside, and at last it seemed like a silhouette of a face was surfacing at last. Without a blink did the Troupe Master watch, not wishing to miss a moment, and the lantern was getting closer, and the figure emerged.

They only spared Grimm a disapproving glance before disposing of some used-up bandages. “Ghost,” said Grimm and he couldn’t prevent disappointment from snuffling out his spark of curiosity. “I didn’t expect to have found you here.” Ghost scoffed, rummaging through what seemed to be chests of different remedies and writings. “So, you know who’s in there,” he once again watched the entrance. “Of course, you know, you were the one to bring about peace. But you know how they are now. How do they look like?”

There was a glint of silk and a swishing sound along the cavern walls, someone gliding through with elegance and a perfect understanding of the place. “If you wish to see how they look like, visit the memorial in the city,” answered Hornet without hesitance when she landed by the broken seals. “That’s the closest you’ll ever get.” 

Grimm hit an unamused tone. “I always preferred the real compared to the lies of artists.”

“What do you plan to do now?” She asked with crossed arms. Grimm noticed her anger of yesterday has been taken over by confidence, for she was certain the Troupe Master was no match for her, and by slight pity, for she had a faint idea what true curiosity felt like.

Grimm shrugged, this time succeeding to hide his disappointed expression. “I will not challenge you, if that is what you’re asking. Far be it from my intention to disturb this tranquillity.”

“Then leave.”

“Am I really that great of a disturbance?” he asked with faked offence. “The Troupe is at rest, and I’m merely a spectator in this kingdom.”

Hornet’s posture eased, rather surprised than confused for the nightmare creature to be one of manners. She believed he’d me more persistent, and a lot more violent, but it seemed Grimm came to realisation at last, and accepted her decisions. “I will stay here nonetheless... they are my sibling after all.”

Grimm nodded as he felt a burst of pain burning his cheeks. Of course, Hornet would always remain a protector, what did he think? He could just waltz in freely when no one’s looking? 

He watched Hornet who still stood unwavering, leaving Grimm alone most certainly not among her plans. Ghost seemed content, lost in some barely decipherable writing, as if glad their job of saving Hallownest was finally over. There stood the three of them, Grimm still dead set on greeting that ancient dark, and Hornet firmly standing in his way. Time seemed to freeze, none daring to step down, then with a loud thud Ghost closed the chest and walked over to Hornet and slowly started to trace words onto her palm. 

Upon understanding Ghost’s words, Hornet’s surprised gaze jumped between the two bugs. “You say you’d stay...” Grimm only caught scraps of her whisper, “you sure..? You know them-... dangerous... both.” Ghost was persistent and at last Hornet sighed. “Fine, you’ll stay and stand guard.” She sent Grimm one last sharp glance before taking her elegant leave, moments later already deep in labyrinths.

Grimm looked at the last point he saw her red dress, when his attention was caught by Ghost fumbling with some tattered papers and a quill. Fuelled by curiosity, Grimm leant over their shoulder, taking in their cursive writing. When Ghost finished and set the quill down they gave the paper to Grimm.

“I’m afraid I can’t read hallowspeak well,” murmured Grimm, squinting and straining his mind to remember. He couldn’t see the satisfied smile on Ghost as realisation dawned on his face and he started to read slowly, word by word. “They may have a mind, but it has never been their own, always controlled by someone else. And now even what they have left... dangerous and scared. They need time, so much time. For your own sake, don’t enter the lair of someone so unpredictable. Let us, their siblings, to hold-” Grimm scoffed and cut the sentence in half, tossing away the paper, frustration already grabbing at his throat. “You don’t-” the high pitches in his voice were only fuel to his fire. “None of you understands. I’m ancient.” Only if they could understand, a ragged breath of defeat escaped him, and even then, only if they would believe all he’s witnessed.

Ghost wrote another scrap of paper. “We are all ancient.” 

_____

Grimm was a bubbling vial of poison, a storm trapped inside a fragile prison, a walking bomb threatening to blow up at any moment. His head burned with unusual emotions, in his chest anger and disappointment churned with curiosity, creating a most unstable potion. The Troupe watched in silence, secretly glad for the delayed departure, but worried for their master who disappeared in that bottomless well and always emerged with a frown on his face, only sometimes succeeding to hide his frustration. Why all this upset him so much, even he wasn’t sure about. Maybe that this time his troupe paid witness, heard that terrible rumble, felt the quaking ground, and saw how the infection was purged. If it were but a story Grimm would have shrugged it off, but now, right now, was real; and Grimm knew something important was being kept hidden from him, forced to be a secret. And the secret was all too tempting, planting ideas and theories in his mind which could only be uncovered if he broke the rules.

Once again Grimm treaded through the caverns, but did not enter the great chamber. He didn’t want to yet again withstand the sharp words of Hornet, or that slightly annoying mute look of Ghost’s. Even if they had wished otherwise, the Troupe Master was no ordinary bug. 

Grimm leant against the cool stone and his eyes fluttered close, exhaling one long breath, listening to the rushing blood in his ears and the slow rising of his chest. When his eyes once again opened all that greeted him was the purest kind of darkness. Whispering in his ears, brushing against his cloak, as if taking a closer look, and for a moment Grimm was afraid to take a breath of the temple’s heavy air. But as the sudden feel of surprise and fright passed by, his muscles eased, and so did the blackness around, until it was no more something malicious, but rather welcoming and curious. Grimm took his first soundless step, but the lack of light was disorienting. The temple stood vast and sprawling, and Grimm could only suspect where one side ended and the other began.

Grimm has rarely found himself in such a vast and strange kind of darkness, the kind that didn't seem to be caused by a mere lack of light. He strained his ears, not quite sure about his expectations, but nonetheless bracing himself to meet someone of a royal and most strange blood.

With a flick of his fingers a scarlet flame lit in his palm, but flickered faintly, as if the darkness was threatening to swallow it whole. And that glint of red... was noticed by someone. They hated light, that memory of shining brightness etched into their mind and body, haunting. But this faint redness failed to evoke their cascade of repulsive memories, and so they stayed motionless; watching the light move around, going in one direction then stopping, hesitating, turning around, moving through the darkness yet again, then coming to a halt... Then as the light got just a bit closer, they noticed it wasn’t anymore just one flame of a candle, but of three, and only then did they realise that they mistook a pair of eyes for twin flames. The scarlet eyes shone dim and odd in the thick darkness, and they failed to recall the last time they'd seen such an entrancing colour. The pictures in their mind were either drowning in crying blues, metal whites, sick oranges or blinding lights. Red... was a most curious and dangerous colour.

Whoever the strange visitor was, they were not from around here, they knew. The Vessel remained motionless, waiting. They knew no one but their siblings were allowed to enter, and for a moment the void froze in them, a whiff of fright mingling with their breathing. But the flame danced so kindly, so harmlessly, bringing with it an idea of warmth that started to melt away the specks of dread left in them.

The knight wished to get a closer look at the curious light so far from them, so they craned their neck, while doing so a whisper of their horns scratching against the ancient stone unwittingly reaching Grimm. The Troupe Master whirled around, surprise and excitement drumming a fast melody in his heart, but he only listened to it for a second before cutting through the darkness with long strides and a billowing cloak. Grimm rather felt than heard a presence hiding in the shadows, and upon seeing the pair of crimson eyes turn to look at where Grimm suspected them to be, The Vessel’s breathing stopped and their muscles tensed, gaze unable to tear from the three dots of red.

Maybe Grimm has heard wrong, maybe it was just a cruel trick of his own mind, maybe darkness really was the only dweller of the place, but he couldn’t be certain until he’s discovered it for himself.

"If anyone is there," they shuddered upon hearing the uncertain words, "greetings." Deep within, Grimm didn’t expect an answer.

But he kept going, steps echoing off the cracked stones, his flickering flame coming closer and closer to the Vessel, and they thought they could might just touch it, if that enchanting flame would just get a little bit closer, they might just... the flame abruptly stopped but an arm's reach from them. They noticed that the light was nestled in a palm, and their gaze slowly followed the arm that held the light, seeing the visitor's cloak of fire and ash, then moved past his shoulders and neck until it settled on the strange face by the soft light. The visitor just stood there, unafraid.

Grimm gazed down at them, eyes wide and unblinking, mouth open but words have failed him. By the light of a lone Troupe Master, the Vessel, the great spawn of an even greater monarch just sat there, crouched in a corner, embraced by nothing and no one else than darkness. Quivering, one hand held up in fragile defence, or to hide their face? A sharp gasp escaped Grimm, but his muscles still refused to move. Here they were, here was the failed salvation of Hallownest, returning his gaze with frightful eyes, and he couldn’t do anything but to truly look at them. Bandages, some of them tattered, some new, covered half of their face and the better part of their body, and though by the subtle light Grimm couldn't see well, the deep scratch marks and unhealed wounds etched into their carapace were impossible to be ignored. He blinked, confused, still not quite believing the sight. The Hollow Knight, right in front of him... sitting in a corner... abandoned...? He didn't know why, but he knelt, taking a closer look at the masterpiece of the great Wyrm, and deep in those eyes he discovered something familiar, something even less than a faded memory of an old friend, but there nonetheless. Their carapace shone dull and dusty, and even with their back to the wall, they seemed so unstable. But those scars and scratches weren't all that was to them, no, they were so much more. Their hand might have been held up in defence, but none could deny that those hands were made to wield deadly weapons. They may have been cowering, but Grimm knew that if they stood, they would tower above all bugs. 

The scarlet bug and his scarlet flame, unexpected yet welcomed, the Vessel stared at the strange sight in front of them, their void rumbling and afraid, yet their mind curious. Why was he here, what did he want, but above all – they watched his wide eyes, his pupils darting about – why didn’t they do anything? If it were anyone else their instincts would have screamed at them to scurry away, looking for the console of their siblings, not wanting to acknowledge the outside world, wanting to forget and be forgotten. But he and his kind flame... their muscles didn’t move, as if afraid if they moved the illusion would shatter and they were left abandoned.

It was Grimm who dared to challenge fate and moved, slowly kneeling to be on one level with the most peculiar being they have seen in a while. But however pale and enchanting their face shone by his light, or however close they were to a masterful statue, on them as if a haunting reminder were faint and dried up smudges of infection, some of the bandages seeping with it. What a cruel thing it was, Grimm thought as an idea emerged, to let such a carefully crafted masterpiece be covered up like this. A few loosely hanging bandages on the knight's wounds caught his attention, and the Vessel tensed before Grimm even decided to move, to slowly and carefully reach out, to merely attempt to help.

His fingertips only brushed the fine silk cloth, when a brilliant flash of white drowned out his crimsons, a shockwave hurtling him half across the chamber. But even that spell felt half-finished and frail, only an imprint of the power they once had.

Silence. There were no more flickering reds, nor sudden whites, only darkness yet again. Grimm stifled a groan as he pushed himself up and stood, shocked rather than hurt. Then, behind the fog of black, emerged something barely more than the uncertain light of a candle.

"It's alright," panted Grimm as with hurried steps he walked over to them yet again. "You didn't hurt me." Their flash may have been brilliant, but Grimm himself who treaded in the ancient art of magic, knew well when it was but a spectacle.

It certainly wasn’t kind from The Vessel, and were it anyone else Grimm would have left, maybe even voiced his discontent, but something very vague and hidden pulled at the strings of his conscience, and he couldn’t leave. But the moment his light has reached and touched their pale face they trembled and cowered, scurrying back into the darkness of a corner with awkward movements, as if not yet in full control of their body. Grimm watched them with not just worry and confusion, but a rising feeling of fright. He was no longer afraid of the Vessel, but of whatever had the power to destroy and shatter such a powerful being. Shivers ran down Grimm's carapace as he tried to push back the thoughts into the back of his mind. At the moment he had someone else to pay attention to.

Grimm sat down not too far, but while maintaining a respectable distance, watching the silent knight with a head tilted in curiosity. He took a moment to calm his breathing, to smooth the etches of worry on his face and to try and wrap the two of them into a friendly warmth. "I know you didn't want to hurt me," his voice a rustling of velvet, "It was my fault, really; I shouldn't have scared you." Hollow's torso merged with the blackness and all Grimm could see was their delicate face with one pool of void staring back at him, the other still behind a fraying bandage. He continued, his shock and frustration evaporating from his words by the moment. "I know you don't speak, but I also know you understand me quite well." He paused while trying to make order among his thoughts, but he had cascades of things to say and ask. "How rude of me, I haven't introduced myself. I am Grimm, Master of the Grimm Troupe." Though they listened intently, to them his name meant little to nothing, and Grimm realised with a strange sense of relief that they didn't care about fancy titles. “And, well, you must be the Hollow Knight.” They nodded ever so faintly Grimm couldn’t be sure it wasn’t just a trick of light. Grimm averted his gaze, the one-sided conversation filling him with mild embarrassment. “Well, how about names? I’ve told you mine, so do you have one?” They didn’t move, as if not quite understanding the strange visitor’s question. “I mean, how does everyone call you? The Hollow Knight?” They shook their head erratically, a shadow of disgust over their features. “So, you’re not fond of that I see,” Grimm murmured, then the flame in his palm grew just a little bit lighter “Hollow?” His words seemed to pique their attention and their eyes widened the faintest bit. “How about calling you simply Hollow for now?” But they didn’t yet give their approval, but looked past Grimm, venturing into reveries, not quite sure. “I think it sounds nice,” Grimm mumbled under his breath, but Hollow has heard the remark and at last nodded.

Grimm couldn’t help but crack a smile, glad that the knight now had a name he could say when greeting them. Greeting them? The smile slid off his face. Did his subconscious already decide he would come by yet again, appear in a puff of smoke, that he’d have the courage to tell his troupe they would stay here, that he’d slowly get to know the secret of Hallownest. And as his mind crafted this beautiful string of thoughts with beads of ideas and far-fetched dreams, Grimm realised he has already decided.

Hollow stirred beside him, their eyes asking a handful of questions they couldn’t voice. Grimm looked at them, his eyes glowing dim, and he drank in the sight bathed in his crimsons, as if wanting to memorize them in case fate had an another plan for him. 

“Some of those bandages should be changed,” Grimm said as he reached for Hollow but they instinctively recoiled, their head lowered meekly, eyes darting around and hunting for threats.

Grimm froze in the movement, hands reaching but only grasping at the dark air, a sour taste on his tongue. His hand dropped, and he noticed with disappointment he yet again wanted to rush things. The Troupe Master couldn’t help it, it was in his blood; to give the wildest and flashiest performances, and to collect the flames as quick as he could before departing and moving on with hurried steps.

But Hollow couldn’t stand suddenness, flashes of lethal spells, the loud clash of sharpened nails, that oppressive and never-ending brightness, all that pain... they shivered and forcefully had to drag their thoughts back into the present. They felt at peace, nestled in their trusty darkness, felt the tranquil silence to be their ally.

Grimm wanted to talk, he so often wished to fill the air around him with chatter, but any idea he had it died on his tongue. This shouldn’t have happened, he knew, he was never meant to come here, let alone give a name to the nameless, he was never meant to stay in this kingdom, and above all, he knew Hollow shouldn’t have survived. Their clash with Ghost was meant to end in someone’s death, but defying everything they were still here, frail and timid, but alive nonetheless.

“I take pride in being an entertainer,” Grimm spoke, only hoping something would unfold along the way, “but it seems words have failed me this time.”

So far Hollow haven’t done much else but recoil and keeping their distance from Grimm, curious but ever slightly afraid and on edge, and their pools of undecipherable void gave rise to a wave of doubt in the Troupe Master. Hollow needed peace and certainty, something Grimm was the polar opposite of. And though Grimm could tell they were listening to his voice, he couldn’t be sure whether they very genuinely interested, or if he was but a momentary surprise, capable of holding their attention only for a couple minutes. Hollow didn’t welcome him, quite the contrary, and the doubt in Grimm grew and grew, thriving in the frozen silence.

Grimm crossed his arms, shoulders slouching, and asked in a soft voice. “Do you want me to go and leave you be?”

He was about to stand when Hollow shook their head, their long horns attention demanding, their hand reaching out, wishing to hold him back without touching, their eyes round and pleading, asking the kind visitor to stay.

Grimm stayed still, but doubt lingered faint around the two. “So you want me to stay?”

Chasing away that last whiff of uncertainty Hollow nodded with a reassuring look.

So, he was welcomed, after all, and Grimm felt as if a terrible weight had rolled off of his shoulders, letting him breathe calmly at last. When he spoke again, the warmth of his voice burned away at the chilly darkness. “Do you want me to tell a story?”

A nod.

_____

Hollow was woken up from a dreamless sleep by a sudden puff of red smoke brave enough to disturb the dark. Were they really asleep, or just staring blankly at the unadulterated blackness, not seeing any difference with eyes closed or wide open? They blinked, that vivid patch still blurry in their vision. Their hand unwillingly touched the bandages on their head and as they moved, they startled, still expecting to be bound by a cocoon of chains, to be denied the freedom of thought and movement as well. And though their memories were as lifelike as ever, the chains were no more, and that sickening light has been snuffed out too. Blinking again, now they had a reason to not just look, but see, see a glitter of excited red, a half-smile of hope. And they watched Grimm and his smile, not truly remembering when they’d last seen such an expression.

“Greetings, Hollow,” his voice too was soft and reassuring.

Grimm sat, not too close to Hollow, but just slightly closer than yesterday. Hollow watched the flame dance in his one hand, and noticed a book in the other.

“I’ve brought something,” Grimm said, already skimming through the yellowed pages, “Did you know how much knowledge the Archives hold? Truly, rarely do I see so much wisdom gathered in one place, so much indeed, I found just what you and I need.” Hollow leant closer with a curious look, waiting to see the pages at last. “We’ll learn it together, what do you think?” And he finally held up the first page to satisfy Hollow’s curiosity. “Sign language,” he chirped with such excitement he had to restrain his loud voice. But on Hollow’s face sat only confusion, not quite what they’d expected. “Now, one option is to simply write your words onto my palm, but,” Grimm glanced at them, still on the shores of a void sea, “but I presume you’re not keen on that. So, we’ll learn to sign whatever you want to tell me. What do you think?”

Hollow paused, thinking, yet not quite sure what to think. They wanted to say a lot of things, but they weren’t sure if that would bring only good with it. Did Hallownest really need a monster who could now speak? Who now could tell everyone what they’ve went through, who now could be forced to answer all the uncomfortable questions, who now must explain themselves? The void in them gave a rumble of protest upon the realisation someone could squeeze a confession out of them.

“Hollow?” They winced at his words, forgetting Grimm and his light were still there. “Is everything alright?”

Hollow wanted to scoff with a roll of eyes. Of course not, of course nothing was so-called alright. The Vessel, the salvation, the hero, the guardian, everything they’ve once been now sat crippled in a secluded corner not wanting to see anyone, and not anyone wanting to see them. Grimm wasn’t from around here, and thus he failed to grasp the absurdity of the situation. They shouldn’t have survived, they were either meant to be chained up and contain the infection, or they were meant to be slain and their place taken over by someone stronger and better. But none of that happened. Their fidgeting fingers and ever so slightly shivering body was frozen by a realisation. They did want to tell Grimm that. Just to enlighten the naive outsider, just to open up his eyes why any of this should not be happening.

A speckle of worry glittered in the corner of his eye, as Grimm didn’t know how long of a stretch of silence was good. Finally, a nod from Hollow relieved him, and Grimm was glad they had let him spend one more day with them. Maybe they wouldn’t need him tomorrow, maybe they’d grow bored of them, but at least he was allowed to have their company for one more day.

“We’ll start very simple,” Grimm began, putting on his best performance to convince Hollow he knew exactly what he was doing. “Most of these signs seem simple, a lot of them one-handed,” he smiled and searched Hollow’s face for an expression, to no avail. “Alright, show me your hands.”

Something swirled inside the eyes of Hollow, something that prevented another word to fall off from Grimm’s tongue, something that told him without words he was treading on unstable ground. Hollow shifted, a hand instinctively grabbing at their most painful and lasting of wound, but invoking an even more painful memory. Grimm had thought it was just the shadow or their cloak, but the way Hollow peered deep inside him, he knew it was no trick of light.

His mouth went dry and it opened and closed, as if he knew he had to say something, but didn’t know what exactly. “I’m-I’m sorry, I haven’t noticed... I didn’t...”

Hollow shrugged and seized the book from Grimm, skimming through the pages with quick eyes until stopping at one, taking long moments to study the page, then they looked at Grimm, their hand and fingers slowly and carefully signing the words. “It’s okay.”

Grimm’s gaze was seemingly glued to their hand even after they have long finished signing. Hollow gave him the book back.

Hollow was satisfied. Grimm was beaming with hope and happiness.   
  


_____

Grimm, the urge to travel always flowing in his veins, has found an odd sense of peace as the strings of days have melted into weeks. Every morning, right after tending to his troupe, he’d dive down the well, the grimmkins always wondering what he was up to, but never once questioning their master. Grimm knew, that the Troupe too felt glad in the silent peace. They have once again set up their tents, and welcomed the few bugs daring enough to venture into their realm of scarlet secrets, giving small shows, performing acts that let the bugs in awe. The tedious labour of collecting flames was over, and the stage that Grimm so often used as a dancefloor, now became their playground.

Grimm was happy for his troupe, but even happier for someone else. Every day he’d teleport into the temple, a grin on his features as he slipped past Hornet’s guard. The temple welcomed him with a speck of faint light, a lumafly lantern he’s given to Hollow so they could study the book even when he wasn’t there. And slowly the two of them treaded together on the bumpy path of not just sign language, but trust. Every day Grimm would sit closer to Hollow than yesterday, but further than tomorrow. And after weeks the two were sitting right beside each other, Hollow enjoying Grimm’s warmth while he tried to uncover just how this masterpiece was crafted.

Hollow listened to the tall-tales about Grimm’s journeys, glad for the change of atmosphere, for the blackness they’ve grown fond of and who hid them from judging eyes, was broken up by dancing flames and low chuckles. But no matter how lively did Grimm’s eyes glitter, no matter how kind he smiled, no matter how many careful hints he’s given, Hollow never touched them, and refused to be touched. Grimm understood, of course he did, and that was the reason he wished to feel their carapace under his fingertips. He wanted to prove Hollow otherwise, to show that not every touch is of hate and blame, to convince them there is more to the outside than Hollow has experienced.

_____

Hollow looked up from their book upon hearing that dull fuzz of magic and seeing the much-awaited puff of red smoke. Their snout pointed towards Grimm, curious and attentive as always. The Troupe Master never failed to surprise them, his presence always bearing something new, never failing to run out of things to say, and so Hollow often found themselves wondering just how ancient the strange outsider could be.

They watched Grimm sway in the dim light, mouth open but no words escaping, eyes darting about the chamber, but never once settling on their face.

"I-" but Grimm's voice faltered under the stare of the vessel, suddenly not sure whether this was a good idea. "I brought you something, but..." Hollow saw the glow of his eyes flicker as he blinked about the place. "But now that I think about it, I believe you won't like it. Yes, it was a foolish idea of me, to think someone as great as you could be pleased with such a simple minded and useless gift. You are royalty, of course, you'd deserve," he stuttered his string of words as he lingered closer to the sitting knight. "You'd deserve something else, I don't know what, but something better, so maybe just forget it-"  
  
"Grimm," Hollow signed, and stopped his waterfall of words. They picked up the lumafly lantern, lifting up the subtle light to reveal Grimm's face. For a moment they didn't know what to think, as Grimm's cheeks were a tint of pink, while through half-lidded eyes he tried his best to smoulder the bright light in his pupils. "Grimm, just show me already," Hollow signed slowly.

Reluctantly he fished the gift from under his cloak. The flower shimmered by the light. “I found it along the way to the Archives,” Grimm explained.

“Thank you,” Hollow gently took the flower adoring its innocent whiteness. Its scent of fresh perfume mingled with the natural scent of fire and ash Grimm’s cloak had, and this strange fragrance was one of a most unique and beloved beauty, one which was dizzying. Hollow felt the velvety petals, when they abruptly froze in their movements, gaze so strong it nearly knocked Grimm back. “Strong, powerful,” they signed and there was a shadow of unsettling seriousness over their pale face. “It’s special.”

Grimm shrugged, “Really, the garden was full of it, so I don’t think it’s actually that-”

“It’s special,” Hollow signed slowly to get the point through, and their gaze softened, returning to what they’ve only heard stories about from a great knight.

Grimm sat down beside Hollow, his breathing at last even. “Do you like it then?”

Hollow looked at Grimm with eyes impossibly wide in surprise and a childish sense of confusion. “Foolish question,” they signed, “I-” but that was as far as they got without having to open the book, searching for a funny sounding word Grimm only mentioned once, a word they’ve never heard before. “I _love_ it.”

Grimm’s face seemed to have caught on fire as he struggled to utter his thanks, flattered by their honesty. His surprise and bewilderment only deepened when a strange rumble has hit his ears, as if the very air had crashed with the earth, yet duller and quieter. It was coming from Hollow. The Vessel’s shoulders shook gently, their eye narrowed, and Grimm’s shock turned into concern, his mind unable to come up with a rational explanation. At last Hollow drew in a deep breath and relaxed, casting a hidden glance at the Troupe Master.

“Is everything alright?” Grimm asked, honest worry woven into his voice.

“I believe this is what you call,” Hollow wondered about the right word for a moment, “a chuckle.”

Grimm couldn’t help but smile, their innocence touching and shameless. Were they even capable of lying? He leant against the cool stone, exhaling a deep breath, eyes dimming, fingers playing with a dancing flame in his palm. “You keep saying everything is special, except you. You act innocent and kind and timid even.” Grimm stared into the puddle of void, his voice burning against Hollow’s carapace. “You could tear the whole world apart if you tried.”

Hollow averted their gaze, skin prickling under the stare. “I don’t want to tear anything apart.” Their mind screamed at them not to utter another word. “I don’t want to hurt anyone ever again, not when...” They shook their head, face so pale they seemed to be but a ghost, threatening to disappear at any moment. The hardwired instincts burned into their mind in a secluded workshop now won.

But Grimm wanted to bring back that ghost of remorse and frail memories, he wanted to bring them back into life; he wanted them to experience all that he was tired of experiencing alone. Grimm may have not known the full story, but he had no doubts about Hollow not deserving any of this at all.

He let out a sigh of unmasked worry, gaze trying to decipher Hollow’s expression, but there was none. They once again were chained up, this time not by spells, but by their own mind and its remorse. They were in a cocoon, looking past Grimm as if he wasn’t even there, oblivious how this empty stare felt like a dagger in his chest.

Finding the lumaflies to be too harsh, Hollow stared inside the blackness, their source of solace and a strange, much more complex feeling. It was the comfort of knowing they couldn’t hurt the darkness. It couldn’t be scarred, wronged or offended. There was no threat that they’d panic and summon a rain of daggers, hurting someone. Everyone was better off if they were left alone - Hollow buried their face into their cloak, hiding themselves from Grimm – everyone was safer without their presence of danger and the nightmarish memories of the infection lingering around them. They thought about Grimm; when he arrived they hurt him too. For no reason - Hollow felt as if they could scream – for no reason at all.

“Hollow,” Grimm’s voice quivered, “Hollow, talk to me.”

But the Troupe Master already knew the reaction he’d be met with. Hollow have shut him out, erecting an invisible wall between the two, refusing to acknowledge his presence. Were they so naive to think this would solve their problems?

Grimm watched them with pity, the many bandages covering the wounds such a creation was never meant to have. Their cloak hung ragged on their thin form hiding from his light, figure motionless, as if wanting to merge with the blackness and perish. But they were not completely still, for in their hand there lay the flower, cherished and cared for, fingers slowly brushing over the white petals, over and over again.


	2. Chapter 2 - Broken chains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Void... bugs outside Hallownest quivered by the mere mention of the word, its thought an omen in itself. Nightmarish tales of the all-devouring ancient god travelled among kingdoms, told either by the bravest or craziest bugs of the land. But now the form that this most dangerous entity was given stood but an arm’s reach from him. So far the void was only harnessed and contained... but at last it was Grimm who had the power, who had the patience and kindness, to tame the creature.

Grimm withstood gracefully the glances of jealousy they grimmkins thought were hidden well enough from their master’s all-seeing eyes. However unfamiliar Grimm was with such sour looks, at least coming from his fellow grimmkins, he knew they had a right to want to know more. But whenever he opened his mouth and was ready to tell Brumm everything that had happened to him, the realisation that none of them would understand struck him bitterly, and his only option was to come up with excuses and empty explanations time and again. The members of his troupe weren’t interested in Hallownest or its ancient history, they didn’t want to know what hid within the well, they just wanted to know why Grimm has left so often. And as the days dragged on, behind those looks of worry and confusion slowly bloomed a sense of fright, for what if one day the Troupe Master would descend and refuse to come back?

And so, when Grimm treaded through that familiar labyrinth of tents and booths, in his wake always arose a wave of sparks and whispers, filling the burning air, and Grimm knew he could keep up his facade of secrets for so long. But still, he tried, fought hard to convince his troupe everything would soon resume, that he could give the order of departure any moment. But the command never came, and everything was frozen in an odd state of uncertainty, one which not even Grimm could resolve, not yet, at least.

He was still waiting for Hollow. For them to tell him to get lost, for the facts to come and face him, for everyone to scream at him he wasn’t welcome. But Hollow kept silent about such matters, never chasing Grimm away, but never inviting him either.

Upon greeting, they barely nodded before their gaze fell back on the pages, leaving Grimm to glitter alone in his own newly-found happiness. When Grimm sat, Hollow’s gaze turned away and into the dark as they shifted just slightly closer to his warmth. When talking, their gaze jumped about the place, rarely daring to meet the pair of scarlet eyes. But oh, Grimm’s heart softened every time they clung onto his words and shyly asked for more of his tales. But after the tale has ended, Hollow kept quiet, letting Grimm to make guesses by their mere expressions.

Grimm felt torn, as he knew Hollow was cruel to unintentionally throw him into a sea of uncertainty, as if asking him to stay but pushing him away at the same time, only letting Grimm to linger around.

Every day the Troupe awaited an answer from their master, which he could not provide. And every day upon entering the temple he was asking for nothing more, but for an invitation to stay.

Today was no different. He stood in the vast chamber, the impossible temple forever filling him with a sense of unease and mystery, adoring the speck of pale light from afar, a gentle smile on his face he didn’t notice.

“Hollow,” Grimm greeted them, and his heart ached to say the words ‘my friend’, but never mustering up the courage to do so.

Hollow looked up at him with a look that only Grimm could notice. “I am sorry.”

The smile slid off his face, worry taking over its place. “Why do you say that?”

“I’m sorry I attacked you,” signed Hollow with such fast movements Grimm could barely follow. Their eyes were pleading for forgiveness they already had.

Grimm knelt and halted himself at the last moment not to put a hand on Hollow’s shoulder. His eyes shone strangely as his gaze fell on the ground, as if looking for something to say, but words have left him.

“It was instincts, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have...”

“No,” Grimm shook his head, “it was my fault. I should have known.”

For the first time it was Hollow who tried to catch Grimm’s gaze, to read his expressions and hope to understand him. “How could you have known?”

Again, Grimm didn’t truly have an answer; Hollow didn’t know it, but a part of him was afraid. Afraid for a slip of his tongue, for a remark he didn’t quite think through could scare the knight. A mention of the past, or the possible future could evoke something horrible in them, Grimm saw each time how their eyes filled up with something foul yet sad, how it brought pain upon their mind to remember so many things Grimm didn’t dare to ask. That was the main reason why, beside mastering sign language, their time was spent with Grimm telling tales and Hollow listening, rather than the other way around. But Grimm guessed far too well that Hollow had just as much to tell, more important stories they could only make their peace with if they confessed. Grimm looked at Hollow in pity; such a confession would break the already fragile vessel.

The void rumbled in Hollow, pushing against their skull from the inside, and they struggled to hold back the cascade of... they didn’t know what it was that yearned to break free, that got tired of being buried deep and now threatened to fight their way out of Hollow.

“I attacked you,” Hollow signed only half aware of their movements, “because I was scared. I thought you were an intruder, and I was...” on their carapace they felt the warmth which Grimm’s eyes radiated, and their void thrashed upon feeling how the sole focus of Grimm’s attention were them. “And I was taught to,” they stared inside the blackness, afraid they’d melt in shame if they had to look in Grimm’s eyes, “kill intruders.” They drew in a sharp breath, chest feeling lighter, as if a chain that weighed them down had been broken.

But Grimm sat calmly, voice simple and comforting. “Why were you scared?”

Hollow shivered, but not because of how uncomfortable they found the question, but because of its nature. Grimm wasn’t demanding an explanation, instead he was fuelled by honest curiosity. Hollow could have turned away, falling silent, but then - they watched the glittering pair of eyes, eternally patient and understanding, - but then they’d disappoint him. Hollow would have denied the answer from every bug, except Grimm; and now they felt surprise churn in their stomach with a strange sense of fright, for they didn’t know if they were even supposed to feel... this. Were they even supposed to be treated to such kindness?

“You won’t tell it to anyone?” they asked.

Grimm supressed an adoring smile for their innocence. “You have my word.”

Hollow took a moment, giving their instincts one last moment to scream at them, but their inner void remained tranquil. “I thought you’d be someone bad, someone who’s come to do,” they blinked rapidly as if not quite believing what they were saying, “bad things. And I was taught the best defence is offense. To raise my nail first and ask questions later... Well, not even really ask, after all,” sour sadness plagued the air, “I had no voice.”

“I understand,” there was not a whiff of offence coming from Grimm, “you were raised to be a knight, after all; to fight and abide by other’s wishes. But then I must ask, if you are such a survivor, why are you still in here?”

Their fingers fidgeted, suspicions rising. “What do you mean?”

“Hollow,” and Grimm leant closer, his voice burning against their mind, “you have survived what was impossible to. You have fought, fought against many things, and you have survived all of them. So then why is such a great knight hiding in the cover of their prison even when they’ve been set free?”

Hollow withstood his intense gaze. How could Grimm say such a thing? They were no prisoner, they could have just... left... at any moment. Then the realisation that has been lurking deep within has suddenly hit them harder than any spell, sharper than any nail. “I’m weak. I am so weak Grimm, I should have died by now,” there was a certain kind of grace and might as they signed their confession. “I’m pieces held together by bandages, and I’d crumble if I were to try and stand.”

“No, no that is not true, that can’t be true,” and Grimm looked at them with such overflowing worry, Hollow was certain he was secretly hoping to heal them with a mere look. “We will get you back together, I promise.”

“Who is ‘we’, Grimm?” Hollow asked with what Grimm suspected to be mock.

“Me, and your siblings, Hornet and Ghost, and every bug in Hallownest...” but his voice faltered under that look of pity.

“I’ve never met my siblings before, have you thought about that? Ghost was long treading the barren wasteland, and Hornet lay deep in her den when I was raised. They are my siblings, and they care for me, but...” At last Hollow’s gaze fell on the ground, empty and tired.

“Please tell me,” and Grimm’s voice was a whisper, so careful not to scare away the delicate being next to him.

Hollow signed without sparing him a glance, “But I don’t know if they _love_ me.” They once again scoffed at the funny word, its meaning so ambiguous not even Grimm succeeded in defining, and so Hollow could only suspect what it meant. 

Grimm tried to conjure up a face to fit his emotions, but there was no face. The Vessel, the salvation, the hope of a kingdom... no, none of this should have been possible to happen. They didn’t deserve any of this. They were the heir of a monarch, the embodiment of persistence and courage, and strength, but at the same time kindness too. Grimm ventured through harsh lands, its residents crazed and cruel, but none came close to Hallownest. To create such a unique and perfect being only to treat it as an object, denying from them the freedom when they were fit to be a king. They were blessed with a sharp mind, yet all they were ever allowed to know were the ways of the nail and spells. Then, when their harnesses were tight enough, they were locked and chained up by their own... Grimm wanted to stop his fast wildfire of burning thoughts, but failed. They were left alone, and when discovered an eternity later everyone turned away from the one who sacrificed everything they ever had... no, Grimm didn’t want to delve deeper, and the last moment reigned over his fast-beating heart. One more moment spent lingering in the past, and his anger might have just reigned supreme.

Anger wasn’t what Hollow needed, no, they needed caring and acceptance, and that was among the few things Grimm could provide.

Hollow didn’t ask, not words at least; and Grimm knew they never would, yet it was an answer he gave. “I will take care of you.”

There was nothing more to be said.

Hollow studied Grimm’s face, intrigued by how he’s changed. At first the outsider had curiosity mingling with the scent of ash he carried around, and Hollow watched as that curiosity grew and grew by the day, fed by nothing else than their mere presence. But slowly the lumafly lantern has cast a new light upon Grimm’s face, a strange shine overfilling their eyes: pity. Of course, who wouldn’t pity such a sad sight, Hollow asked themselves. The Vessel thought it would end there, the Troupe Master leaving with his curiosity satisfied, his cloud of concern left behind in the Crossroads. But Grimm was full of surprises; persistent yet gentle, and Hollow didn’t know what they could do, and so they waited, waited for something to happen. Finally, in Grimm’s soft smile and shimmering eyes, something has happened. Hollow blinked and leant closer, making sure it wasn’t trickery. Pity and curiosity sat still and faded on his face, their place taken by something else, something they couldn’t pinpoint. They scoffed and shrugged, afraid if they’d looked at Grimm for one moment longer they’d might just decipher that look.

Grimm stood abruptly and looked down at them with a sense of newly found purpose. “I will be back in a moment, trust me.” And he hastily left in a puff of crimson smoke, leaving Hollow only the company of a handful lumaflies.

Would he return, the thought flashed through their mind, and they tried to stand, but strength has long abandoned Hollow, leaving them with only weak limbs which stung with pain and refused to work. They looked down at the book and flower, not understanding why Grimm gifted them such things for seemingly no reason.

Time has passed slow, wading through the thick liquid blackness, but Hollow waited patiently. They didn’t want to ask any more questions, they didn’t anymore want to think about the past or the future, they just wanted Grimm to come at last and help them keep their mind occupied. It was easy to focus on his crackling voice and bright eyes, to get lost in his details and feel their rumbling void to calm at last.

There came a whisper of smoke and Hollow jerked their head towards the lean figure of Grimm.

“I told you I’d come back.”

Hollow has noticed he didn’t arrive with empty hands... why did he keep on giving?

Grimm knelt in front of the broken hero, intense gaze studying their figure while trying their best to mask the pain and anger stirred by the sight of an innocent creature wounded so harshly.

“I’m asking you, Hollow,” and they shivered, for his voice rang different, “do you want me to help you?”

They glanced at the bandages and vials in his hand, then searched for any tell-tale sign of a lie or trickery, but ended up with only honesty. Hollow nodded.

Grimm let out a mute sigh of relief. “In these bottles is water from the hot springs. It will help, but first,” and he drew in a deep breath, calming his already racing heart, “I have to take some of these off.” 

Hollow felt the air sitting heavy in their lungs and they tried their best to ignore the dull pain that they have accepted to stuck with them forever. Their mind knew Grimm’s sole intention was to help, but their barely harnessed void thrashed within their shell, only worsening their pain. They weren’t supposed to accept help, that was one lesson among the many others that taught them they could only ever rely on themselves. The King ended up to be wrong in so many things that Hollow suspected this hardwired instinct might also be among them.

Their attention was yanked back into the present by the sudden heatwave rolling off Grimm as they reached for an already loosely hanging bandage on their arm. Hollow watched unblinking every nuance movement of Grimm, how his breath came quick and sharp, his gaze careful and attentive, the way his fingers trembled only the slightest as he made sure Hollow could see what his next move would be. His sharp claws slowly peeled off the void and infection-stained cloth, not even touching their shell.

Grimm let out a sigh as he tossed the bandage away and prepared to clean the cut that by the flickering pale light shone slick with drops of void slowly escaping. Hollow remained silent and unmoving, never fully certain what would happen next, and even then, how it would feel.

Grimm muttered something under his breath, probably to calm himself more than anyone, as he damped a fresh strip of cloth with the healing water. Hollow’s void unwittingly gave a friendly rumble as they welcomed the warmth of Grimm’s fingers wrapping around their arm.

“Does it hurt badly?” he asked softly while cleaning the wound with gentle movements, careful not put any pressure on it. Hollow was about to shake their head when, as if by touching them reading their thoughts, Grimm added, “Honest answers only.”

They nodded at last, ashamed yet relieved for admitting the truth. For now they were allowed to confess.

Grimm scoffed with a barely noticeable half-smile, “Of course.”

Grimm noted content that the stories he’s heard about the hot springs seemed to be true, the wound starting to close up, but only the slightest bit. The waters healed, but weren’t a magical cure, and Grimm knew he’d have to tend to the wounds many more times.

The fresh bandage wrapped soft around their arm; Grimm’s fingers experienced with tending to wounds. The dirty bandages were gently peeled off, and Hollow let Grimm to unravel them, to see the marks of the past not many has witnessed before. And Grimm watched, so intently, mind racing while his breaths came relaxed. He didn’t understand why any of this had to happen, but nonetheless he felt honoured to have seen the slowly blooming flower that was Hollow. Grimm cleaned another wound, healed another scratch, humming an old tune while changing the bandages.

A relieved sigh tore up from Hollow, when something glinted in Grimm’s eyes, and they knew there was one more place left for them to reveal. They instinctively touched the bandage on their face, a flash of worries in their eye. Would Grimm like what he’d find there? The cloth felt frayed to the touch. Hollow only ever let their sibling change them when they could bore the itching and pain no longer.

“Can I?” The question sounded over and over again, and Grimm didn’t know why he asked so often, only that Hollow deserved to have a choice for possibly the first time in their life.

The knight exhaled a ragged breath, their void bubbling within. But if they have got this far, and Grimm had such a hopeful aura around him, why should they stop now? Why should they disappoint him now? They looked long at Grimm with their one uncovered eye. He was only waiting for their word, damp cloth already in his hands, gaze already locked at the part of their face he longed to see. Hollow gave a nod, placing their trust in Grimm’s hands.

Grimm drew closer than ever, sitting right in front of Hollow, hearing something resembling a heartbeat mingling with quick breaths. His fingers ran along their cheek, adoring their beauty even when they offered themselves. Hollow truly was a statue under Grimm’s warm touch, for they didn’t want to accidentally break the spell that has descended over the two. Grimm’s mouth opened in a mute gasp as he unravelled the weatherworn knight, peeling it all away layer by layer. The long strip of silk fell to the ground, and Grimm was met with two round bottomless eyes staring right back at him. Hollow blinked and there was a faint crackling sound. Gaze leaving their eyes, he saw tiny cracks running along their face like rivers of void, all flowing into the two black lakes. The void, liquid and vapour at the same time, mingled with the air around, evaporating drop by drop.

Grimm could hardly prevent his face from contorting into a distasteful grimace of pity and anger, but the way Hollow so persistently held his gaze somehow eased both of their tension.

“I’ll fix it,” Grimm’s warm whisper felt soothing on their pale cheeks. “I’ll take care of it.”

His jaw clenched as, with a touch so gentle Hollow couldn’t be sure if it was real, his fingertips ran along their face, feeling every tiny crack and scratch.

“Grimm, not even you can fix this-” but Grimm quickly reached for their hand and stopped their movements. He didn’t notice Hollow’s sharp breath, and couldn’t see the thrashing waves of void banging against the Vessel’s already weakened carapace.

“Yes, I can,” he protested with a newly lit flame in his voice, yet still whispering. “We can. We will.”

And Hollow didn’t have the heart to defy the Troupe Master, to shatter his newly found hope and what seemed to be a glittering sense of purpose on his cheeks. They sat, thoughts and instincts and emotions battling in their motionless body. They weren’t taught this, they weren’t prepared for any of this, and they weren’t warned about someone... kind. Instincts have failed Hollow, their thoughts were but a jumbled mess, and they weren’t sure whether they were ever meant to feel anything, let alone something warm and friendly. If any of them would know, their focus has shifted past Grimm and onto the treacherous waters of memories. How would _he_ react? What would _he_ say? Could they even-?

“Is everything alright?” Grimm reached for Hollow and brought them back to the shores of tranquillity. “You look rather upset.”

Not everything was alright... but a few things were, since Grimm has arrived. Not only were all of their wounds now tended to, but they could talk to someone. The darkness they trusted so much paired comforting with his red embers, the silence was good to be sometimes be broken by his kind words.

Grimm continued voicing his wandering thoughts, executing the finishing touches with a slowness Hollow couldn’t find an explanation for. “Some fresh air would help you, I’m most certain; and a change of scenery too.” His movements stopped while talking, hands resting on Hollow’s head, as if not wanting to move on. “You deserve to see the kingdom you’ve saved, it’s getting livelier by the day, would be a shame if you missed it.”

Hollow’s head remained still, only their gaze jumping around on the form of Grimm. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Grimm smiled to himself, but didn’t wish to press on the matter. He knew it wouldn’t be him to open up Hollow’s eyes, not his words at least. He’s seen it too many times to know that changes take time, sometimes stretching out for years, so slowly that it becomes barely noticeable. Nudging Hollow wouldn’t chase away the bitter taste of the past that sat on everything with such an oppressive force.

Grimm finished, and Hollow once again regarded him with but one eye, silently thanking not just his care, but that special kind of warmth too.

_____

“Troupe Master,” Hornet’s confident voice cut through the air, a fine counterpart for the fiery Grimm. “I noticed your troupe still persists. I wonder what has compelled you.” She was fiddling around the entrance of the black egg, busy.

Grimm shrugged, ready to accept the challenge that conversing with Hornet meant. “Hallownest holds wonders, and little to no dangers,” the chilly air carried along his sharp tone. “But then you surely must have noticed how many of your peers also find entertainment in our circles.”

Hornet has tried to ignore the uninvited visitor, but now she set a stack of scrolls down with a loud thud, gaze now firmly resting on the red bug. “Are you expecting gratitude?”

Grimm scoffed mockingly. “It’s not me you should be thanking,” he gestured at the gaping hole of blackness, “but them.”

Hornet sighed. “They are not your responsibility. They are mine, and I’d be thankful if you wouldn’t burden me with yet another worry or problem, as I already have more than anyone could bear.” She regarded the outsider with narrowed eyes. He didn’t know anything, he couldn’t understand anything. He wasn’t here when it all happened, he didn’t see what she has experienced first-hand.

“Of course, you have a kingdom to take care of.” Grimm held her eyes, enjoying the silence while the sentence hung loosely in the air, preparing to show Hornet his words could be weapons just as well as flames. “But Hallownest isn’t yours, now is it?”

Hornet fell silent, eyes delving deep into her own mind, then as if an explosion of daggers she shot off her confession. “I know, believe me I do! I don’t let anyone to get close to the throne, not even myself!” she drew in a deep breath, a faulty attempt to restrain her emotions-plagued voice. “It belongs to them, it always has, but they don’t want it. Do you understand?” She gestured around frustrated, as if just wanting someone, anyone, to understand. “They don’t even want to acknowledge the outside world, they cannot stand daylight, so then how could you expect them to rule? How?” And her feelings overflowed, her forehead glistening, cheeks blushed and chest heaving.

Grimm stood, but felt as if her words have knocked him back. He was expecting a quarrel and the need to prove that Hollow was deserving of a better care. But Hornet has given him a confession and maybe even a word of advice. He had no answers, but looked at the bug who’s survived just as much as the knight, in such a way as if asking her to continue. His hands ached to grasp at the knowledge everyone has denied him so far.

“They are my sibling,” she began, posture loosing her vigilance, head dipping low as an eternal tiredness cast a shadow over her weary features. “and it is my duty to care for and protect them, but it will not work if they don’t want it to. And I can only keep asking and trying for so long before everyone starts to wonder who’ll sit on that ever-important throne. I can’t let it all to crumble, just because of,” but she didn’t finish, that would have just brought more pain to everyone. Her hands hung aimless by her side, cloak dusty and creased. “So what is it you want, Troupe Master?” 

‘To stay’, the words nearly slipped past his fangs, but he knew Hornet may pick up her nail if he spoke with honesty. Honesty wouldn’t help Hollow, it would only compel their sister to guard them even more fiercely. Grimm yet again knew it wouldn’t be his words to solve the problem.

Hornet didn’t know what to make of the mute bug, every little whit of knowledge he might have held wrapped up in that ashen cloak. She felt worry making her heart beat even faster than usual, upon realising that Grimm knew. The Troupe Master was aware of the kingdom’s fragility, and had he tried he could easily fight his way towards the palace and into the throne room; but an old feeling has whispered Hornet something else. Grimm was hiding something much more grandiose and important, she could tell by the determination woven into his steady voice. His eyes didn’t shine with hunger for power, but something he’s held ever more important. Hornet found that she was left in a quagmire of uncertain guesses, and she doubted Grimm would ever reveal his intentions solely because she asked.

No, the Troupe Master was an entertainer, that was painfully obvious from the beginning, and Hornet feared he’d prefer acts instead of words.

“I’m keeping my guard up,” she didn’t let her confusion show, “Hallownest stands strong against nightmarish creatures like you.”

Grimm smiled bitterly, a twitch of offence running along his face but disappearing just as quickly. He murmured something under his breath and bowed low, as if he’d finished a performance. “Keep taking care of them. And don’t give up on them like everyone did. That was this kingdom’s fatal mistake.” And before Hornet could snap back all that Grimm has left behind was a trail of red smoke and a lingering scent of spices.

_____

Hollow’s eyes fluttered open when they heard that familiar low whisper of Grimm’s magic that was now paired with a steady stream of water dripping from his cloak.

Hollow blinked up at the Troupe Master standing in front of them with a wide smile on his face and acting as if he didn’t look like someone who’s just fought their way through a tempest. “Greetings,” his chest was still heaving as if he were running.

Hollow tilted his head, adoring how the pale light reflected off the thousand tiny droplets of Grimm’s face, creating such a rare beauty they’d never seen before. “What happened to you?”

Grim scoffed and plopped down beside the puzzled knight. “Your kingdom is truly beautiful.” And there it was, Hollow thought, that melody of happiness none could strip away from him. “But the city is a bit too cold and wet for my liking.”

Hollow leant closer, a funny expression upon their face as the scent of rain and cold has hit them. “You’ve visited the city?” They paused; hand motionless in hesitance as they battled with their own thoughts. “What’s it like?” 

Grimm supressed a knowing smile. “Why don’t you see it for yourself? I can’t tell whether it’s changed or not, but it seems as if they’ve started fixing up the palace.”

“I can’t,” Hollow shook their head and glanced away, loosing that last remain of pride, “they hate me. They’d kill me on the spot.”

“Don’t say that,” and there was a hard light of seriousness in his eyes. “They don’t know anything; they know nothing about you. They’re just waiting for someone to open their eyes and speak the truth. Hollow, Hollow look at me.” The Vessel’s void reluctantly met his flames. “Not a soul is blaming you. Right now, they are too busy with getting their own lives together, mourning for the fallen ones and rebuilding everything from scratch. And they are in great need of guidance, Hollow...” The end of the sentence hung in the darkness as Grimm refrained from telling Hollow to take their place on the throne. 

Images of the ever-drowning city flashed through their mind... they couldn’t. Then the blues were plagued by a sickly orange, crazed screams and panic reigning over everything. Hollow shut their eyes... they couldn’t possibly hold together something when they were barely in control of their own body. Chains... a whisper of bindings and the heavy shut of a door that was never meant to be opened again. They could never live up to him, they could only disappoint. Then in the darkness came a flash of divine light, banishing Hollow from their own non-existent mind. They weren’t created to sit on a throne, let alone make decisions on their own. They’d fail over and over again, shattered promises and lifeless bodies by their feet, like it always has been.

Grimm drew closer to the knight whose expression filled him with unease and a fright of the past. He gently nudged them, asking for their precious attention. “Even if she means well, don’t let your sister choose over you. No one’s stopping you anymore.”

Hollow’s hand rested on the bandaged part of their face. They wouldn’t be welcomed, not anywhere, except... the warm coloured form of Grimm never left their gaze. He welcomed them, right? Maybe he even had fait in them, even when they were but a barely alive mess?

“Say that again,” they signed with a quivering hand.

“I’m saying,” and Grimm didn’t continue on until Hollow has let him to be lost in their bottomless pitch eye, “not a soul is stopping you anymore from being your own master. No one holds power over you anymore. You don’t have to be scared.” Grimm’s voice crackled not like the fire of a torch, but a whole bonfire. 

Hollow stared at him for long minutes, body motionless aside from their heaving chest and what Grimm could not see: the waves of barely harnessed void that raged within their shell. Was the Troupe Master telling the truth? He has spoken nothing but the truth so far, and honesty was dripping from his every word. Hollow couldn’t decide, not yet, not so soon when they were still shivering from the shock.

But they weren’t the only one shivering; Grimm sat with gritted teeth as droplets ran down his cheeks and arms and seeped into his cloak. It only took Hollow a moment to grab some clean bandages lying by and gently start wiping off the water on Grimm’s horns.

“What are you doing?” he asked confused yet a laugh slipped by.

Hollow’s hand was busy with drying up the city’s tears, caring gaze resting on Grimm. Their movements were slow, thankful for Grimm to once again keep their mind occupied.

For a moment Grimm fell silent, no longer shivering, but fighting hard to keep his breathing even. “The palace stands imposing,” Grimm had the urge to say _something_. “The view from the tower must be magnificent; were you there often?”

Hollow shook their head. The blues were present, but whiteness overwhelmed everything. It was fortunate Grimm hasn’t seen what remained of that place.

Why was the knight taking care of them, the question arose in Grimm. It should have been him to care for someone so much in need of guidance. “You should come with me next time,” his voice rustled quietly.

Hollow set down the damp cloth, looking at Grimm with a sigh. “I don’t like light. Darkness is better. Darkness protects.”

A sly grin crept onto his face. “I think otherwise.”

With a snap of his fingers was called forth that dancing flame that never failed to catch Hollow’s attention. The flame ran along his long fingers, jumping around from hand to hand, twisting and twirling, as if playing. Hollow watched unblinking, snout sometimes so close to the little flame, Grimm was afraid they’d burn themselves. But deep inside, Hollow secretly loved that light. Knowing that it couldn’t just burn and destroy but give warmth too, knowing that if need be, the flames would protect them.

However entrancing the red speck shone, Grimm could hardly pay any attention to it; not when his eyes were fixed on Hollow with invisible threads. His reds complimented their pale divinity, illuminating their face in a most precious way, and Grimm believed he could see better what went on in that most arcane mind of theirs.

“Light can be good too,” he mused. “It illuminates the way and sheds light on what not many have seen before,” he brought the now brighter burning flame just slightly closer to Hollow. “The darkness hides you, but everything else from you too. Hollow, all you have to do is decide whether you’ll reveal yourself and face the outside world, see the good and bad things it has to offer; or if you’ll stay in this black cocoon, protected, but a prisoner nonetheless.”

And with the last words said and a snap of his fingers Grimm killed the dancing flame and lumaflies alike, wrapping the two in pure blackness. Grimm listened to Hollow’s sharp breathing and momentary confusion; there was fumbling around, sounds of movement, then a gasp slipped by his fangs upon feeling Hollow’s long fingers wrap around his hand.

The sharp claws etched ancient words into his palm. “Bring back the light, please. I want to see you.”

Grimm wanted to savour the moment. Now was his chance to say something snappy, to get his point through, to burn something into their mind... but he didn’t want to. Hollow asked and Grimm couldn’t bring himself to deny something he’s always had from them. And besides, the realisation dawned and made his chest feel light, he too wanted to see Hollow.

His flame burned brighter and livelier than ever, drenching the two in a beautiful shade of secrecy. A shy smiled of adoration crept onto Grimm’s face as he watched the void swirl inside their eye, their gaze darting around the place.

“It’s alright,” Grimm whispered, hiding his bitter disappointment. He wished with a yearning heart for Hollow to ask him to stay, to let him know he was welcomed. “You don’t have to say anything.”

Their hand rested upon Grimm, but now they jerked it away, a shadow of something grim passing over their features. They blinked, gaze sharp, muscles tense. “They used to call me Pure.”

Confusion sat steady on Grimm’s face. “What?”

“When I first met you, you asked how everyone calls me,” they signed painfully slow, “they used to call me the Pure Vessel.”

“Well,” Grimm tried hard to figure out what they were getting at. “Do you want me to call you Pure?”

Hollow shivered upon the name and the lie it was. “Please no. I never truly lived up to that name.” A long stretch of pause came before Hollow mustered up the courage. “I just thought you’d deserve to know, because here, no one will talk to you about the past. That is the curse of Hallownest, I believe.”

Grimm’s sole response was a mute scoff and a bitter sense of irony reflecting off of his eyes. He couldn’t bring himself to deepen Hollow’s wounds by saying something honest yet cruel, by reminding them of the already dead past, no. All he wished for was to stay, to be at peace at last, and he wished the very same thing for Hollow.

Hollow’s gaze rested on Grimm, his friendly crimsons putting their inner sea of void at rest. They never heard of the existence of such a strange kind of bug, let alone meet one. Then Grimm arrived, fuelled by curiosity, and he refused to leave. But for how long could they feed his flames of curiosity? How long could he last in the cold rain of the city that stifled his vibrant colours? How soon would he get bored of someone as boring and reserved as Hollow?

Hollow watched the tirelessly dancing flame in his palm, afraid that it could go out any moment. Grimm watched but didn’t say a word as Hollow lifted their hand and slowly, so slowly and carefully, reached out to him. Hollow felt his aura of embers and warmth wrap around them, and they reached further, long fingers now mere inches from the tensely awaiting Troupe Master. And at last, as Hollow felt something odd slithering along their shell, they touched Grimm’s cheeks.

“Hollow?” Grimm’s whispered words were filled with a ring of pleasant surprise. His fangs sunk into his lip upon realising he didn’t want to draw back. “What are you-?”

Hollow sat still, not quite believing how perfectly his face fit in their palm. Grimm’s carapace felt warm under their fingertips, and Hollow swore they felt the swirling flames of aliveness and hope deep under his shell.

Reluctantly so they pulled back, hand feeling empty, their body too far away from his flame. They blinked, as if waking from a reverie, and their memories from moments ago were already hazy. They blinked again, looking down at their hand. Did they really just..?

“I wanted to make sure you’re not just a mirage.” Grimm’s forehead was etched with concern as he unwittingly leant closer. “That you wouldn’t disappear at any moment, just like the others did.”

Grimm cracked an innocent smile. “I am here to stay, my dear.” 

Hollow stared blankly back at him. “You shouldn’t stay by my side, you are destined for other things.”

Grimm didn’t let Hollow’s doubt to plague his own hope. “What do you know about fate?” he asked simple and innocent. “Fate has died long ago; fate has died the second you realised you are not just a mere vessel, an object to be tossed around. So just let the two of us to go down on the path we want, defying fate, fighting off the ones who wish to control us.” A strained and bitter chuckle echoed off the darkness. “Hollow, don’t you realise it’s time we stand up and take the reins? It’s time you show that you have lived up to your name. Hollow dear,” Grimm intertwined their fingers, “everyone who lives in those foul memories of yours is dead now. The stage is yours, now, will you come with me and let the shine of the spotlights to stream down on you?”

Hollow gently squeezed his hand, their gaze held steady by the fire in Grimm’s eyes. He sounded different yet again, a rare deep tolling of wisdom in his voice. Could all of those bugs of the past be all wrong? Could it be that fate really has shattered and got consumed by the infection? The silence was getting too loud around them, their mind fogged by black smoke. But above all, how could they find the answers to these questions they were never meant to hear?

Their muscles tensed, gaze delving deep into their inner void. Could Grimm clear this black smoke? No, sadly not even he could. But he was most certainly keen on helping, helping Hollow to, - they squeezed Grimm’s hand again – uncover the answers themselves. It was solely them who could deliver the answers their mind craved so much.

“Will you help me?” Hollow signed, this time not just asking a question, but asking Grimm to help.

The flame in Grimm’s palm danced unruly, barely listening to its master. “Yes,” his voice was soothing velvet against their aching wounds. “I will always help you.”

And Hollow felt as if they could cry.

_____

With a snap of his fingers Grimm became a puff of smoke and emerged in the vast temple, bearing a new set of bandages and healing waters, but his eyes honing the same ever-alive shine of the knowledge that he was the only one to witness something most peculiar, something that would open a new chapter in the history of Hallownest.

Hollow’s literal chains were long broken, and now their strength was slowly waking as they were ripping off the invisible yet much more stronger and restraining bindings. They were a flower about to bloom, a butterfly playing with the thought of spreading their wings, a child wondering in awe about what the world around them held. They were Hollow, no longer the failed salvation, the betraying hope, no. They were Hollow, the prince, the guardian, the knight, and most importantly, the survivor.

Only if they would accept Grimm’s hand and let him lead them out of the darkness. A vile feeling grabbed at his throat. Only if they’d realise the outside was waiting for them, but in Hollow fear still reigned and supressed that spark of careful excitement Grimm tried his best to nurture into a fire.

Grimm has long lost track of the days in the treacherous caverns, and still, barely anything has changed. Every morning Hollow greeted the Troupe Master with a slight nod, their back still against the ancient prison walls, and Grimm was afraid they’d forgotten how it felt to stand. Only if he could witness all their might, only if they’d gift him with the vague idea of how the knight used to bask in their own divine light. But Hollow shattered Grimm’s wishes, and so all he could do was care for them with the deepest level of kindness he didn’t think he ever regarded someone else with; hoping if he tried hard and long enough Hollow might just listen to his words.

A sigh of ashes and dry air left Grimm’s lungs as his presence wished to fill the temple and let Hollow known he’s arrived. But something else already lingered in the lightless air, a whisper, a rustle of cloth. Someone else was here for his knight. Without a moment of hesitance, he cut through the suffocating blackness, a warning crackling of his flames as his eyes flared up a shade darker.

There was only one voice fierce enough to match the nightmare creature’s. “Troupe Master,” the blackness carried Hornet’s smooth voice, “I’d love to say it comes as a surprise to meet you here, but that would be a lie.”

Grimm came to an abrupt stop upon seeing her silken dress and sharpened nail. She was kneeling beside Hollow, just having finished changing a few bandages. 

“Have you thought I really am that heartless?” her voice rang unamused, and a weary sigh left her. “The difference is that while you care solely for them, I have to look out for a whole kingdom and all its citizens.”

Grimm’s gaze rested on Hollow, waiting for them to say something, anything really. Hornet fell silent too as her muscles eased just the slightest bit, and Grimm had the impression she was enjoying the momentary calmness.

Grimm stood unswaying with crossed arms, carapace shining threateningly in the pale light. “So the lives of lowly bugs are more important than that of the heir?”

So long Hornet refused to look at the outsider, but she couldn’t let the offence go unanswered. Her black eyes that were missing the ancientness of Hollow’s tried to pierce through Grimm, but the bug stood strong. “I believe we must act now and do everything we can; we mustn’t let ourselves be trapped by the past. Things are happening at this very moment, Troupe Master, great and important things. If they don’t want to be a part of it, I’m afraid I can’t do anything.” She shrugged, lantern in hand, taking a few steps towards the entrance shrouded in shadows. “It hurts my heart to say this, but we cannot stop and wait for them. We’d be risking everything they have sacrificed for us.”

Grimm followed Hornet, getting closer and not the least intimidated by her confident air. “Just because they don’t share that readiness and desire to act that you do, doesn’t mean they are a lost cause.” He scoffed, barely acknowledging what she’s said and refusing to believe she truly meant it. “You have given up on them so easily.”

“I have not!” The shout got devoured by the darkness as she faced the overconfident visitor. Her eyes shot a series of pitch lightnings. “Don’t you dare accuse me of abandoning the one I share my blood with! You act as if I have taken the throne for myself already.”

The long forgotten thrill of battle and action flowed through Grimm’s veins, widening his eyes, making blood rush through his veins, putting his senses on edge. “You haven’t taken it yet. But I don’t think-”

“Nightmare, be careful of your words,” the nail on her back glinted. “You are alone here.”

Was Hornet offering herself for a dance? A fight, Grimm felt the aura of Hornet’s fierceness, a fight he’s been craving for so long. For his pupils to dilate, for his realm to unfold; for it was such a pleasure to burn. “Don’t be selfish now, protector. We all know how perfectly you could sit upon that throne.”

Was he trying to burn away Hornet’s lacquer of collectedness? His hands were hot and his fire threatened to break free. Grimm had always been an entertainer, and the one he liked to entertain the most was himself. Could he get the fine bug in the red dress to show why she’s earned the title of protector?

But so far Hornet advanced with steady yet silent steps, the darkness sticking onto both of their cloaks, slowing them. “Just because you’ve managed to get your hands onto a few old scrolls, you really don’t know anything about us. You haven’t survived what we have. You’re not from around here and you’ll never find your place here. All you’re accomplishing is wasting your precious time and risking meeting my anger.”

It was so wrong for Grimm to crack a smile, he knew perfectly well, but this time he was in the right. This time he had every reason to press onto the matter and emerge victorious.

“Won’t you raise your nail?” And his tone was more of a request than a question.

“There really is no point,” and she avoided meeting his bright eyes. “You’ll leave either way.”

“What makes you think that?” There was a sharp edge of defensiveness in Grimm’s tone.

“You, Troupe Master, are a creature born of nightmares. Hallownest is no place for your kind. It will chew you up and spit you out, forcing you to move onto the next forsaken land, just like you and your troupe are destined to.”

He gave a low and sour chuckle. “Talk about fate. You lot are always so unshakably certain that destiny will take care of everything. Tell me, what was Hollow’s fate again?”

Hornet came to an abrupt stop, all movements, even the rising of her chest, freezing. “There are things not even you have the right to meddle with.” Her voice was too even, much too like a blade sharp enough to peel back Grimm’s carapace. And for once Grimm stayed quiet, his heart no longer beating steady with the thrill of an unfolding battle. “I’ve heard the stories about you, Troupe Master, and you have to understand if the circumstances were different, we’d either welcome you or end your life with one swift movement. But now,” and Grimm frowned upon noticing that odd kind of disappointment painted on her face, “all I’m asking you is to leave. Your home is a kingdom drowning in madness and decay, and this is no more that land.”

The hotness from his palms rushed to his head, and for a moment Grimm’s vision went fuzzy as the ground seemed to slip from beneath his feet. It wasn’t surprise or shock that grabbed at his chest and knocked the air out of him, after all, Hornet didn’t say anything new. But what hurt Grimm is that she said it, she gave a voice to the knowledge he fought hard to bury, and now it was lingering in the blackness around, suffocating. Grimm’s mouth opened then closed again, but the feelings churning with one another in his chest could not be described by words. His throat narrowed. Hornet didn’t know, but how she could have? If he could only explain; and his mouth went dry, now filling it only the ashes of his hopeful fire. He has changed, he no longer wanted to be the master of something that evoked only fear in every bug who’s heard of it. But how could he convince the protector unshakably certain and bound to her duties? Grimm delved deep into thoughts and speculations, mind brewing ideas, each one more ridiculous than the last. Then he realized, and he felt something weigh and grip at his nightmare heart, he would never convince Hornet. The sentinel has learned, and was no longer keen on taking the risks her younger self would have jumped at. She was scared, Grimm saw it clear now, she was just as afraid as her sibling.

Hornet watched the mute Troupe Master, pity blushing her cheeks. Grimm could be persistent, she has experienced that herself, but it seemed at last she made him understand, and she felt slightly more relieved, knowing Hollow could focus on important matters now. So then why, with a rarely seen example of persistence, was the Troupe Master still standing in front of her, daring to look into her eyes?

"Grimm, please, give them the peace they deserve. Leave," Hornet demanded loud in her natural tone of confidence, but barely visible threads of worry were woven in her voice.

Her focus shifted as she noticed something shift behind Grimm, as if the very fabric of darkness had stirred. The air moved too, an odd scraping sound against the ancient stones, a deep inhale of the darkness, and whatever more Hornet wanted to say it got stuck in her throat. Grimm followed the path of Hornet's focus, flames burning ever brighter in his wide eyes, when the darkness had given way to a figure. A rhythm of sharp metal clanking on stone filled the temple. They were getting closer. The steps came slow and considerate but dedicated, and not even the reliance on their nail made any soul dare to question their royalty.

Hornet watched, shock not letting her to blink, while Grimm’s whole form radiated an odd sense of surprise. Hollow burned under their stares, but did not let themselves be intimidated anymore. The two were talking about them as if they weren’t present, as if they couldn’t decide themselves, and so the void boiled within them, giving them the push to stand. They would no longer endure being treated as an object, as someone's property. The days of emptiness and idly standing aside, allowed only to be an island withstanding waves of war, violence and sacrifices without any objection were over. At last, they have woken up, and finally, their voidheart pounded in their chest, sending a rare kind of strength flowing through them.

Hollow came to a stop between Hornet and Grimm. They looked at their sister, and upon her discovering an ancient memory stirring deep within their eye, Hornet felt something churning in her chest, and suddenly her lungs felt devoid of air.

Hollow stood unmoving with their back against the one who's shown them something different than anything they've experienced before. Their nailed remained still, its sharp tip embedded in a crack, but nonetheless the masterful blade shone imposing even after all those long years.

"He stays," they signed slow and clear, Hornet familiar enough with the signs to understand.

They didn't have to sign anything more, for all their thoughts lingered around them, visible like threads of silk. It was in the way they stood, regal yet, by instinct, slightly in the stance of a knight ready to act if need be. Their message of confidence was in the way their fingers curled around the hilt of their pure nail, never letting anyone forget what their original purpose was. The rising of their chest was slight and slow, Hollow being of a cold and considerate demeanour fit for a negotiator. They stood tall, towering above both of them, and they no longer let the pain streaming along their muscles to stop them. And their face, for Grimm it was a canvas for the most detailed of paintings, a statue with most delicate features; all the while Hornet's mind was flooded with memories she fought hard to shrug off.

Hollow wasn’t asking, no. It was a command, on their face written the expression of perfect awareness about just how much power they held as the spawn of the king and rightful heir to the throne. And they still stood, enhanced by the pale light, awaiting.

Grimm once again felt eager to say something, but his tongue refused to comply by his mind’s wishes. His eyes were fixed onto Hollow’s form, but how could they not have been when the divinity demanded everyone’s attention? Now he felt special to have paid witness to the Vessel emerging once again, defying expectations, stomping on what some were brave enough to call fate. Truly, Grimm could see, they truly were void harnessed, and now he understood why the Pale King regarded them as the greatest achievement of his life.

Void... bugs outside Hallownest quivered by the mere mention of the word, its thought an omen in itself. Nightmarish tales of the all-devouring ancient god travelled among kingdoms, told either by the bravest or craziest bugs of the land. But now the form that this most dangerous entity was given stood but an arm’s reach from him, protecting him. So far the void was only harnessed and contained... but at last it was Grimm who had the power, who had the patience and kindness, to tame the creature. To understand and talk to them, to witness what no one else even dared to imagine. 

Hornet too found her body to be momentarily frozen by the shock her sibling’s appearance has inflicted, yet thoughts were racing in her busy mind. She knew they’d stand one day, but for the first time she was clueless without a plan. Hollow would never want anyone by their side, or so she believed, and now realized she didn’t come prepared with an answer. The Troupe Master knew little about the past, and Hornet feared, they would treat the Kingdom as but a source of entertainment. And Hollow... she didn't dare to imagine what may happen to her sibling in the wrong company. Wouldn’t Grimm be too loud and demanding, unwittingly setting things on fire, accompanied by his noisy troupe and an accordion melody? And how would everyone in the city react? Was the sense of bright hope flowing through Hallownest strong enough as not to stifle something new and unusual? She glanced at the scarlet bug, who caught her gaze and held it strong, for once letting his emotions reign free in order to convince the protector of the land that finally had a glimmer of hope. Hornet sighed, wanting to trust Grimm, but not yet succeeding. But she did trust her sibling, Hollow. If they wanted so...

Hornet struggled to bring the words forth. "If you wish so."

The very air stirred as a deep sigh of relief tore up from Hollow. Their shoulders slightly slouched and at last, with a slight turn of their head they glanced at Grimm from the corner of their eye. Grimm couldn’t refrain from smiling upon seeing that tiny glint of careful happiness and hopefulness; and Hollow looked at him in such a heart-warming way as if saying, ‘Look Grimm, are you proud of me?’.

And Grimm was beaming with proudness, for at last, he did something kind and helped a lost soul in need of guidance. The thought of harvesting the flames of dying kingdoms now repelled him, for here he has found a sense of purpose he never wanted to let go off.

Hornet was the first to shift in her red dress. “I knew you’d stand,” and there hid something soft in her voice, “I knew you’d make us all proud one day.” She held her sibling’s gaze for long moments before blinking, as if slowly awaking from the pale enchantment of Hollow. “I’ll go and look for Ghost, they need you just as much as you need them.” She was about to take her leave and the lumafly lantern, when her movements froze as she spared a glance for Grimm. “Troupe Master Grimm... take care of them ‘till I come back.” Her nod was enough of a welcome for Grimm who couldn’t wipe the smile off his features.

The flicker of lumaflies died away in the darkness, and so in Grimm’s palm yet again danced that vivid flame. And the two just stood there, unwavering, Hollow bathing in a pool of crimsons, Grimm at last accepting the void brushing against him.

“Shall we see what awaits us outside, my friend?” his voice crackled reassuring, oblivious to how grateful Hollow felt for not urging them.

They may have been standing, but were they ready to see the light of day? To be treading along the paths of their memories, to be reminded of the past time and time again? Have they grown strong enough to endure the stares of suspicion and pity following their every step? Would the light no longer plague their mind? Would they still be forced to face expectation they could not deliver? They shivered, not fully certain of the answers.

“Will you come with me?” they asked, their one uncovered eye shining round with hope.

“Of course, I will,” and he stepped beside the knight, ready to help. “I’d like to get to know you better.”

Grimm felt Hollow cracking a silent smile. The Vessel’s one hand gripped their nail to aid them in keeping their unsteady balance and support their weakened muscles, while from the other side Grimm tried his best to keep the still uncertain Hollow in balance, only hoping the two of them wouldn’t topple over any moment. And step by step, the pair of pale royalty and vibrant kindness advanced through the darkness which Hollow believed they could never leave behind. And though the future lingered uncertain on the horizon the two had everything they’d ever truly need: each other wrapped in Grimm’s guiding light.

Hollow’s steps quickened when they noticed a bright spot flickering through the black fog. Waves of void rose within in curiosity, and who was Grimm to hold the eager knight back? The bright spot grew bigger and bigger, until Hollow has found themselves standing by the shores of the sea they’ve been drowning in for so long. Just a few steps, and they’d see the kingdom, _their_ kingdom, Hallownest.

They glanced down at Grimm who beamed witch such warmth and glittering crimsons like never before. His fire unwittingly mingled with their void, and Grimm’s hopefulness spread over to Hollow, unnoticed. Would the life that awaited them in the light be hard and challenging? Yes, Hollow was aware. Were they destined to do so? Hollow didn’t care anymore, whether their fate was written down somewhere, because what mattered for them, was that they wanted to do it. They longed for the outside world. Would they have to do it all alone? Grimm started to hum a carefree melody. No, they’d never be left alone, not anymore.

The two stood, broken remains of the seals scattered by their feet. Hollow shivered and a momentary surprise took over him as on his carapace he felt the cool dampness of the caverns, and... was it a slight breeze that carried along scraps of faraway conversations?

“My dear,” Grimm began, “welcome to Hallownest.”

He felt Hollow draw slightly closer to him, and though he couldn’t see, he knew the knight was smiling, possibly the first genuine smile they ever had. He looked up at Hollow, lost in their presence, and didn’t yet know why he wanted to stay by their side so much.

Hollow stepped out and filled their lungs with fresh air, enjoying the cold dampness hitting against their carapace, while Grimm’s ever-present warmth calmed their void, a reminder he was always there. Leaving the darkness behind for good, Hollow headed for the city to claim the throne. With slow and unsteady steps, but nonetheless advancing, their determination only enhanced by Grimm’s crimson fire. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy you've stuck around till the end of this story, I hope you've liked it! <3 <3  
> If you're curious what adventures await these two lovebugs consider checking out the original story, You Are No King.  
> Once again, thank you so much!!  
> Feedback of any kind is much appriciated and always welcomed! <3

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this first chapter, if yes, keep reading because the story has only just begun ;)  
> Second chapter coming soon, in the meantime I'd like to offer the original work for consideration 
> 
> Kudos and any kind of a feedback/criticism is highly appriciated.  
> Thanks for reading! <3


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